Buried Alive

Buried Alive Melissa Barrett (bio) Sherman Sizemore couldn't even get lost in his thoughts at a red light. In the two weeks following his surgery, he constantly fought off daydreaming, reciting his grandchildren's full names and birthdays to keep himself free of tilting backward into his mind's roaming nothingness. In the shower, he went through the names of the presidents in order to keep from surrendering to the bottomless space where the brain does what the brain wants. The best time of his day was the ninety minutes right after he drank his coffee, when he didn't have to sculpt his intentions, fight himself to maintain being present, alert, on-task. He could look out the window and see all of the different kinds of green in the tree in the neighbor's yard. He could listen to his wife Ruby as she buttered a piece of toast. He could stand in the garage and do nothing but breathe in the smell of the damp cement. When there wasn't anyone to talk or listen to, when the boldness of two black cups of coffee receded, when Ruby was at the store, when the grandkids weren't there, shouting four or five inches from his face, over top of the television, persistent in their reminder of where he was: at home, recuperating from a major surgery but safe and cared for—he thought he was falling into a hole. The psychologist known as the father of daydreaming defines daydreaming as "a shift away from some primary physical or mental task, toward an unfolding sequence of private responses." Sherman's private responses were rooted in medical trauma, and once they began to unfold he could not pull himself out of them. He had horrible nightmares, so he stopped sleeping. He did not want to be left alone, but he also couldn't bear to see his grandchildren. He was not himself. He was paranoid, fearful, he thought he was being buried alive. A minister and former miner, a husband, father, and grandfather, Sherman emerged from his exploratory gallbladder surgery a different person. After he shot and killed himself, a doctor at the wake approached the family and wondered if Sherman had not been properly anesthetized during the surgery. This was something no one had considered; the idea led the nurses in his family to request and examine his medical file. What they discovered there became the grounds for their lawsuit: Sherman's anesthesiologist administered drugs to prevent movement and speech during the surgery but did not administer an anesthetic to relieve pain until 16 minutes in, after several incisions had been made. Sizemore's family attests that Sherman endured incredible pain without the ability to communicate. What's worse, the suit states: "Following the recognition of their clear error, [the anesthesiologist and nurse anesthetist] also administered to Mr. Sizemore a drug to induce amnesia of the event." So Sherman wasn't sure what had happened actually happened. He likely wondered if anything happened at all. Part of the trauma he endured was the growing doubt of his own feelings and memories in the face of dishonesty, evasion, and the covering-their-tracks behavior from his healthcare team (the doctors did not disclose any information to Sherman or his family about their missteps). [End Page 111] In The Register-Herald, the president and founder of the Reston, Virginia Anasthesia Awareness Campaign is quoted as saying, "If you take a rape, or kidnapping, or 9/11, or war, or anything, and you take away the abilities to make tears, moan, yell, fight, or move, that is literally being buried alive." ________ The anesthesiologist responsible for Sherman's death is still practicing in West Virginia. His reviews online are mostly good. Only one person gives him the lowest rating, someone who most likely has never been his patient. He left a patient paralyzed but awake during surgery. So NOPE. Perhaps the anesthesiologist and nurse anesthetist are more careful now. Perhaps they use a checklist, got additional training, or did some penance. Perhaps they donate a portion of their very large paychecks to Anesthesia Awareness chapters. Perhaps they have a mantra...